Now What?
by vegetarianmode-activate
Summary: Timmy Turner has finally grown up, so why doesn't he feel like he has? Set post Grow Up Timmy Turner and ignores the sequel as well as a few facts towards the end of the first movie.


Now What?

Timmy Turner has finally grown up, so why doesn't he feel like he has? Set post _Grow Up Timmy Turner_ and ignores the sequel as well as a few facts towards the end of the first movie.

* * *

Timmy Turner always thinks best in the shower. All of his greatest ideas seem to reveal themselves during those glorious fifteen minutes every day when he steps into the tub and lets the scalding water turn his skin a faint pink. It was in the shower that he came up with Wishful Thinking, a brilliant scheme where he could finally move out of his parents' house and go on a life-long road trip with the girl of his dreams that was sort-of-but-not-really-officially his girlfriend, yet. _It's the perfect plan_, he had thought, washing the remaining suds of his shampoo out of his brown hair, _he, his fairies and Tootie could live how they wanted, driving across the country and granting the wishes of those in need._ Cosmo and Wanda, and Poof to a lesser extent, had quickly agreed, and within the hour he was showing off the tricked-out van to an ecstatic Tootie.

The happy kind-of-couple took no time moving their things and settling into their new set of wheels. Though it may look like an ordinary utility van on the outside, the van was magically expanded on the inside to be about the size of a small apartment, similar to the one his parents had been not-so-discretely been urging him to move into for the past 3 years. There was a sitting room where he and Tootie would watch movies together into the wee hours of the morning when he became punch-drunk and she giggled at every word he said. Attached to the main room was a kitchen that supplied whatever they wanted to eat, including plenty of pizza for Timmy and veggie burgers for Tootie. The bathroom had a shower for cultivating future great ideas, and a counter big enough for Tootie's blow dryer, curling iron, aerosol-free hairspray, makeup bag, nail polish, their shared toothpaste, and Timmy's newly acquired deodorant. More often than not they would brush their teeth together, Timmy's elbow accidentally-but-also-on-purpose bumping into Tootie's side as she tried not to laugh and spray the mirror with white foam that she would make him clean later because, "He was the one who caused it in the first place!"

Wanda, devoted to the details as always, had made sure that there was a coat hanger and hat rack just inside the entrance, and that the Wi-Fi was up to speed when Tootie needed to plan out their next route and research charities when they were on their way. Their fridge in the kitchen was covered with newspaper clippings and photos, 'Roaming Charity Helps Out at Homeless Shelter', 'Pups Lonely No More- Wishful Thinking does it again', and 'Young Couple Rallies Citizens Behind New Equality Bill'. There were photos of them at peaceful protests, dancing with other activists; one of them serving food at a shelter; and another just of them smiling outside the van during their first stop. Carefully arranged amongst the photos were mementos from their stops- dried flowers, campaign buttons, leaflets and ribbons among other mementos. Sometimes Timmy would catch Tootie sitting at the counter early in the morning, slowly sipping her fair-trade coffee as she fondly read and re-read the fading papers.

The van also kept comfort in mind, and the fairies had an upgraded fish tank in the main room, centered between the separate entrances to Timmy's and Tootie's respective rooms. Even though they were full grown adults who were not only dating, but living in the same van-apartment, they kept up the charade that their relationship was like one between two nervous teenagers, and it drove Timmy insane. He kisses her goodnight every evening, watching as she disappears into the foggy, unchartered territory that is her bedroom. _Her _bedroom, not _theirs_, unlike almost everything else in their conjoined life (lives?). It's not that he wants to pressure her into something she doesn't want, but with every kiss they have it feels like he's back in middle school, and her parents are watching their every move from the front seat as they get a ride to the movie theatre.

He sits in the passenger seat now, something he's getting used to after an extended number of years when he insisted on sitting in the back in a wild attempt to keep his fairies as long as possible. The radio scans through wavelengths as they coast through what's likely some Midwestern state that is entirely comprised of corn. Timmy turns and looks over at Tootie, who idly taps her fingers on the steering wheel as the radio clicks to _another _country station. He feels a rush of guilt, Tootie's been driving all morning, and as much as she insists that she's fine, it eats at Timmy's insides that he can't offer to drive for this length of the trip, since he still doesn't have his license. A year ago he could have simply wished for the ability to drive, but given the current state of his wish-making allowances, he's forced to learn to drive the legal way, which for the meantime means studying the rules of the road so that he can pass the test to get his learner's in the next state that they stay in for longer than a day.

Tootie sighs and Timmy stops the radio on something he's never heard before, but at least it's not country, and at this point it's literally music to his ears. They cruise down the highway a few miles more before Timmy turns away from the window to glance back to his partner in crime, her eyes shaded from the early afternoon sun by her favorite pair of aviators. She's humming along to the song that's by some indie-sounding band, and he wonders where she's listened to it before. Their whole courtship has been one giant experiment for him; all of this is new to him, holding hands, kissing, letting her use the shower first because if he starts there won't be any hot water left for her. Timmy's love life can be summed up to a disastrous wish where he and Trixie Tang were the only ones on Earth, a 'date' that was quickly ended when he realized how much attention from others she needed on a minute-to-minute basis. He knows now that Trixie was a mistake, merely infatuation confused with the dawning knowledge that boys and girls were indeed different and everything else that comes with puberty.

But Tootie, she's different. Every time she breathes he falls deeper in love with her. She smiles that wonderfully bright smile at him, and he wants to kiss her. Whenever she laughs, throwing her head back in a graceful motion that sends her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders his heart beats a little faster and he wants to tell her how much he loves her. And when she turns to look at him as they drive down the interstate in a van full of fairy magic and tells him that she loves him, it makes his heart soar and he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. That's what's so odd about them. It's very clear to him that he cares for her, and he's pretty sure it's a mutually shared feeling. He can tell when she's trying to faze him, like when she wears those tiny pajama shorts and one of his old t-shirts around the house-van-apartment. Or when she sits on the couch next to him and pulls those long, tanned legs of hers into his lap as the movie starts, making him gulp and try to not drool or let the situation get even further out of hand. Like when she kisses him when the movie's over, straddling his hips as their lips move in sync and the fairies try to hide Poof as he slides his hands slowly slides up the sides of her exposed and very sexy thighs.

So why is he always the one pulling away from her? It's very obvious that half of him wants to continue, particularly his _lower_ half, and she always seems eager to keep going, so what's holding him back? He knows what's _supposed _to happen, he was a teenage male at one point, and he/it seems very capable of doing _it._ He asks himself these questions in the shower as he thinks, trying to reason why he pushed his girlfriend (her title was officially established practically ages ago) off his lap and told her goodnight before running off to hide in the bathroom. She had looked confused above all else, and not to mention fairly aroused, but he couldn't ignore the obvious hurt evident in her eyes. Timmy hated seeing her like that, and above all he hated himself. He hated that he was the one who hurt her, not some weird villain, or a greedy politician trying to pull one over on his citizens, or even that one former boyfriend she doesn't like to talk about. Disgusted with himself and his lack of mental progress, he angrily shut off the shower, stepping out and grabbing a towel before leaning dejectedly against the wall. The pipes finished dripping and Timmy closed his eyes, trying to let his mind sort itself out for once.

It was odd for him to leave the shower without a single hair-brained scheme brewing in his mind, but he supposed that using cold water in order to deal with a secondary problem might have undermined the effectiveness of his 'think tank'. So much in his life was going right for once; he and Tootie were coming up on the second year anniversary of both their relationship and their business, which had gained national prestige after months of hard work and a touch of magic. They had a big calendar hung up in the dining room, which was also their unofficial office, and it had quickly become covered with plans for charity visits, volunteer hours, speeches to attend, and politicians who wanted to meet with them to discuss future legislature plans. Nowadays Tootie seems so happy, achieving her dream and actually making a difference in the world. Timmy spends most of his work time in between projects updating their new website and maintaining their blog, detailing how their thousands of followers could continue to support worthwhile causes with and without the physical presence of Wishful Thinking. In addition to managing their social media, he has gained the honorary title of 'Spreadsheet Wizard' from Tootie, and for every hour she spends on the phone talking and planning with leaders and organizers of charitable groups, he's editing and updating their budget, studying demographic trends in their readers to predict what they will and won't support, and making sure they both aren't working themselves too hard. He even talked to his parents the other day on the phone, and both of them were clearly proud of their son who seemed to have finally grown up.

But he hadn't, not really. As much as Timmy liked to believe it, he wasn't really an adult yet. Sure, he showered on a consistent basis, and changed his underwear daily without being reminded. He had left the nest of his parents' house and moved in with his girlfriend, who he was most definitely in love with. Hell, last month they had done their taxes together at the kitchen table. There couldn't be anything more grown up than taxes, right? Wrong. Because even though most of him was an adult, deep down inside Timmy felt like he still wasn't quite there yet. He had colored with kids at the homeless shelter as Tootie talked to the manager about re-organizing their donation center. Last evening they had gotten Chinese take-out for dinner, and he hadn't gone ten minutes before pretending to be a chopstick walrus as his girlfriend rolled her eyes and bit into another spring roll. Tootie wore flowery sundresses, grimy overalls, and business suits and managed to take his breath away in all three. He wore t-shirts and jeans every day, often causing the men in suits that they sometimes met with to turn to Tootie instead of him during meetings, even if he knew more about the topic and could recite a page full of statistics off the top of his head about their financial and popular success.

Timmy definitely noticed the way that other men would look at them when they were in public together, and the way they skeptically looked at him, clearly wondering what could have brought them together. Tootie would tell him he was being silly, being sure to let him know that his jealousy was unnecessary, and that she had chosen him, not them. Although he knew it was ridiculous, it still made him feel inferior, and no number of tax return forms could make him feel like a full-fledged adult. Timmy spent that evening tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if he was doing what was right for Tootie. Surely she must feel as though he was holding her back. Without him, she could have a nice, business major boyfriend that liked wearing ties and going to board meetings without calling them 'bored meetings' and who would happily get an online job so he could buy her a shiny engagement ring. They'd settle down in some city, and she would run a corporate business and he would work in the stock market, and together they would have two blonde haired, blue eyed children that both wanted to end global warming with a financially stable, well-paying job. Timmy jolted awake, not remembering falling asleep, but immensely glad that his nightmare was not a reality.

The next morning he moodily sat at the kitchen table, his bowl of cereal unappetizing to his tired eyes. Cosmo, Wanda and Poof are quickly by his side, trying to cheer him up.

"What's wrong sport?" Wanda asks him as he stirs his bowl again, the starch slowly drowning in the organic milk.

"Nothing, just…" Timmy trails off, not sure how to phrase his thoughts from last night.

"What? Did the cat eat your ear again?" Cosmo's odd phrase helps to somewhat smooth over the awkward pause, and Timmy, for once, doesn't react.

"I think I should leave Tootie." There. He did it, like ripping off a bandage.

"WHAT!" Cosmo and Wanda shriek, and Timmy frantically tries to calm them down, afraid that their noise will wake up Tootie.

"What did she do to you!?" Wanda asks; her voice far too loud for the small space.

"Nothing," Timmy answers quickly.

"Is she pregnant?" Cosmo questions him with a waggled eyebrow, to which Timmy answers with a hurried, "NO!"

Wanda, sensible as always, pulls out her Love-O-Meter, "It's as high as it's ever been!" she proclaims, reading the colored bars.

Cosmo chimes in, wagging his finger and glaring at Timmy, "Something's fishy here mister, and it is not my underpants this time."

Timmy sighs, running his hands through his hair. He was not expecting this to be difficult, "Nothing is fishy, and I love Tootie more than anything in the world, but," he glances around before continuing, "We just can't be together."

"Why not?" Wanda asks, and the three of them look at him with concern.

"Because she's too good for me," Timmy's heart sags even lower at hearing the words come out of his mouth.

"Well it's the same for us, but you don't see me complaining," Cosmo chimes in, and Wanda smiles at him.

"No, you don't understand. Tootie is so, so, grown-up. I'm still just a little kid. No matter how hard I try, she's always going to be more mature than me. And I, I'm holding her back. That's why I have to leave. You guys can still be together, and you can keep Wishful Thinking going."

"But Timmy, that's not what we want," Wanda says, concern evident in her face.

"I know but," Timmy starts before hearing something rustling in Tootie's room, "We can talk about this later. And don't tell her anything!"

The fairies sigh and disappear back in into their fish tank as Tootie's door opens. She bounces into the kitchen, as joyful as ever, greeting him with a grin and a cheery "Good Morning!"

He grumbles something along the lines of 'morning' back to her.

"Well I see someone's in a mood," she teases him as she starts to warm a bowl of organic oatmeal in the microwave, "did you get up on the wrong side of the bed or something?" he looks down at his fluorescent Fruit Loops, the sugary cereal is just another thing that made him seem hopelessly immature in comparison to her. He shrugs his shoulders noncommittally as she plops down in the seat next to him, stirring a few raisins into the brown-gray goop that she claims is good for her health.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, well, she eats. Timmy sits sadly in his chair, watching as the rainbow colored rings soak up milk and grow soggy. Tootie turns to him, concern evident in her face, "Timmy, are you ok?" he nods a little, "You sure? Last night you didn't seem to be quite yourself and now you aren't eating…" she presses a hand against his forehead.

He fights to keep memories of last night out of his mind and brushes her away, forcing a small smile onto his face, "I'm fine, Tootie, just tired, that's all. I had a hard time sleeping last night."

She doesn't seem convinced, "Do you want us to stop by a doctor?"

"Tootie, really, I'm great. I'll just take a nap this afternoon when we're back on the road. That way I'll be ready to go when we pull into town." Tootie seems appeased by this answer, and returns back to her breakfast. Timmy drains his leftover milk into the sink before scooping the soggy cereal remains into the trash and setting the bowl and spoon into the sink. "Oh, and I took a shower last night, so feel free to use all the hot water you want in the shower," this comment wins him a happy smile from Tootie, who seems to be forgetting some of her earlier concern.

She jokingly pumps a fist into the air, "YES!" she jumps up and deposits her dishes next to his, pecking him on the cheek as she heads towards the bathroom, "And if I do run out of hot water, maybe you can help me generate some extra steam." Timmy's jaw drops at her forwardness as she winks saucily at him before disappearing behind the closed door.

He's not sure what just happened. Was that an invitation to join her? Is the shower really the best place to lose one's virginity? What would a grown adult do? His mind spinning, he drops onto the couch and drags his laptop into his lap, pointedly avoiding looking over at the bathroom door where his girlfriend is or at the fish tank where his fairies are avoiding him. Defaulting to mindless habit, he opens his email and stares blankly at the screen. He begins to read what's probably something very important, but after the seventh try he gives up, letting his laptop screen go dim. His mind wanders, and in the distance the water turns off in the bathroom. Timmy's thoughts jump back to his girlfriend, who is currently leaving the shower and wearing- He groans, knowing that he is digging himself even deeper into the pit of immaturity as he tries to get himself under control. _Mr. Crocker, Mr. Crocker, Mr. Crocker_, runs through his head like a religious mantra, if said religion were dedicated to old, unattractive men who are nothing like the heavenly beauty currently less than five feet away from him.

Once he's able to gain some train of thought that isn't full of perverted fantasies, his brain is once again flooded with reasons why he ought to leave Tootie. She deserves so much more than he can offer, and he can tell that she's mildly upset. Timmy has never been the forward on in their relationship, something that he has never had any problems with, but as of late he can tell that Tootie has been directing them even more than she would normally. She's the one who makes the first moves towards getting more intimate, not that he's complaining, but wouldn't a normal boyfriend be the one to light the candles and make trails of rose petals?

The truth is that he's terrified. Timmy sees the way she looks when they pass by the display windows of jewelers, the large engagement rings sparkling in the sunlight. He notices how she stiffens against him when they watch a movie with a proposal or wedding scene. And above all, he notices the look of sad remorse when they meet couples with young children or she talks to the pregnant women at the rallies they visit. It hurts him to see her like this, but it kills him to know he can't provide those things to her. They can't afford a wedding of any size, except maybe a quick courthouse visit, which both of their parents would kill them for. Using magic would be the easy answer, but it seems like a bad sign to start a relationship of that caliber off with something he didn't earn himself. He would get a job outside of Wishful Thinking, but not many offices are hiring those who haven't even graduated from middle school. Of course, he could test out of a diploma, but his transcript is still just plain awful. Their van is certainly no place to raise a family, and as much as he wants to give her everything, Timmy doesn't know if he can. He's sure that it's himself holding her back, and that without him she'd be permanently established somewhere, and his nightmares from last night comes back to him.

"Timmy?" He is dragged out of his thoughts by Tootie, who is leaning on the couch, her hair still wet from the shower. Thankfully she's fully dressed, wearing her favorite flowered skirt and one of her volunteer t-shirts from some project they did last month.

"Sorry, I'm listening," he says, turning in his seat to face her, keeping his laptop firmly in its place on his lap.

"No, it's fine. I just wanted to know if we could make a quick CVS run this morning." Timmy can barely hear her questions over his own thoughts. _Is she biting her lip? Wow, that's sexy. Maybe she needs help with that, because I would gladly bite it for her…_

He looks back up at her, "Yeah, sure. I think it's in the budget, and I need some stuff too. I ran out of shampoo and had to use yours for the past few days," he jokes and looks at his feet.

She laughs, "So that's why you smelled like flowers," she ruffles his hair teasingly before jumping over the back of the couch and sitting next to him, "What'cha working on?"

"Just checking email," she nods in understanding and he goes back to trying to read the screen as Tootie pulls her hair into a loose braid.

After a few minutes they are ready to head out as Tootie slides into the driver's seat and Timmy clicks his seatbelt next to her. She fumbles around for a few minutes in her purse, tossing him her wallet, sliding a hair tie onto her wrist, and searching for her sunglasses. Reaching up, he grabs the missing object off the top of the dashboard and holds them in front of her, smiling. She blushes before taking the aviators out of his hand and sliding them over her eyes and up on top of her forehead, where she will likely forget about them later when she needs them. She carefully backs out of their spot and they stop to pay at the booth before leaving the overnight truck stop. Once on the highway, Timmy goes back to work on the computer as Tootie sings along to the mix CD he made for her last Christmas. After just over an hour and three bruises on his arm (Tootie is a punch-buggy master) they are on the exit ramp and headed towards their next one-day project rally.

They park in the lot in front of CVS with t-minus three hours until the start time of the food drive and communal soup cook. Timmy glances at his watch, "We've got thirty three minutes to kill before we need to be there," he says, and Tootie nods excitedly. Having been planning this event for two weeks, Timmy made sure that the set up would be organized enough that he and Tootie wouldn't need to arrive until about two hours before kick-off. The dynamic duo storms into the convenience drugstore as though they were their own action movie.

"I'm going to pick up some manly shampoo and more toothpaste. You get snacks." Tootie dictates as Timmy tosses her a basket.

"Cheese popcorn?" he asks, even though he knows the answer.

She nods, faking seriousness, "Cheese popcorn."

They high-five, still smiling, and head off towards opposite directions of the store.

Precisely seventeen minutes later they converge in front of the register. Timmy places his bag of popcorn on the counter, as well as a jug of milk and a loaf of bread next to Tootie's basket of assorted necessities. Tootie slyly takes his wallet out of his back pocket and tells him, "I've got this, why don't you meander?"

Rolling his eyes, Timmy goes to examine the flyers messily posted above the cart return. They even have one posted for the food drive, _Wishful Thinking is coming! _It says in bold letters _Join the community in the battle against hunger with our food drive and soup cook! Bring your own ingredients to add to the pot or get a bowl of good for just $5! All proceeds go to local area food banks. Canned and non-perishable goods will also be collected. Come on out and support a good cause!_ As he is reading, he doesn't notice the stranger that approaches him.

"You going to the food drive?" a burly voice speaks over Timmy's shoulder, and he turn to see a large man in a leather jacket holding a few bags of groceries.

Timmy tries not to look as intimidated as he feels, "Yeah."

He grunts, and Timmy flinches a little bit, "Aren't you that Wishful Thinking guy?"

"Um, yes." he holds out his hand, "Timmy Turner, Wishful Thinking."

The man switches his bags to one hand and shakes Timmy's with the other, "Bruce. My buddies and I are coming out this afternoon. We're going to be manning one of the chili pots. Had to get a few starter ingredients first," he holds up the bags and Timmy nods, growing a bit more relaxed.

"That's great! I look forward to seeing you there. This is one of our biggest collaborative events, we're really excited about the high level of community support we've gotten so far," Timmy glances over towards where Tootie is signing the receipt and chatting with the woman behind the counter. She catches his eye and smiles brightly at him.

"That your girl over there?" Bruce asks him, sounding a little amused.

"Well, she's not really _mine_ per say, but I'm definitely _hers_," Timmy jokes, earning a chuckle from Bruce as Tootie walks up to them, their groceries and Timmy's wallet in her hands. She tosses him the wallet, which he catches before sliding into his pocket, and he takes the one of the colorful reusable bags she insists on using out of her right hand.

"Everything checked out fine," she tells him before turning to Bruce, sticking her hand out to him, "Hi, Samantha Williams."

Bruce introduces himself and is clearly impressed by Tootie's aggressive spirit. "Well, I've got to go round up the boys, but it was great to meet you two," he begins to walk out and says quickly to Timmy, "and good catch, boy. She's a keeper."

Timmy looks down, blushing a bit as Bruce leaves and Tootie laughs. He remembers his conversation with his fairies this morning. _If only he knew that I can't keep her_, he thinks to himself as they walk back to the van, cloth bags in hand.

Tootie jumps back into the driver's seat, tossing her bags behind her seat. Timmy climbs into the passenger's seat, dropping the bags he was carrying at his feet and pulling out his wallet as he clicks his seatbelt into place. As Tootie fixes her hair in the mirror, Timmy reads over their receipt.

"How did we spend over fifty dollars at CVS?" he cries, confused.

Tootie pulls her sunglasses out of the cup holder and slides them on, replying vaguely, "We did get a lot of things…"

Timmy is not convinced, "Still, did you pick something else up?" he ruffles through the bag at his feet, looking for the item in question. Then he finds it. "Tootie…"

"Yes?" she answers, a little meekly, and he can see she's biting the inside of her lip, something she does whenever she's guilty.

"Why did you get," he pauses, his mouth uncomfortable with the unfamiliar word, "condoms?" He pulls the box out of the bag, and it sits between them, an elephant that instantly changes the mood of the conversation from light and carefree to one filled with awkward tension and guilt of being discovered.

She huffs, trying to avoid the question, "We are two grown adults who are in a serious relationship and frequently share the same space," she meets his eyes and pauses; then begins again, softer and staring at her lap to avoid his gaze, "I wanted to have them, you know, just in case. I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, but if something were to happen, I want us to not have to worry about any- unforeseen consequences."

He's not sure how to respond. On one hand, he's ashamed that he didn't have the guts to buy them himself, and that she had to resort to sneaking around behind his back just to make sure they wouldn't accidentally do anything that could get them in trouble. But on the other hand, he's just as nervous as she seems to be about moving forward in their relationship.

"Tootie, I," he starts, but then stops. The box catches his eye, and he has to force himself to look back up at his girlfriend.

"Give me the receipt," she says with her voice and face expressionless.

"What?"

"Give it to me." He slides the slip of paper into her hand, and she grabs the box, opening the car door.

"What are you doing?" he asks, trying to gain some understanding of the situation that is quickly spiraling out of his control.

She huffs, and even though the door is open, she doesn't move to leave, "I'm going to return them. You're right, we aren't- ready. I'll just say I got the wrong size or something."

"Tootie, don't," he grabs her wrist, the one not holding the box, and she tries to pull it away from him, but he doesn't let go. He can see the tears welling up in her eyes. God, he hates it when she cries.

"Then what do you want to do, Timmy Turner? Why can't we just be normal for once?" He releases her wrist out of shock and watches as she pulls it back towards her, both of them emotionally hurt. She then crosses her arms over her chest, and the motion is awkward as she is still holding the box in her left hand. Now he knows it is official, they're fighting. He hates it when they fight, and not just because he loses every time.

He's about to say it. His mouth is open and he's ready to tell her everything that's been hanging over his head for the past, what has it been, a year now, when her phone rings. The moment breaks, and she tosses him the box, answering the phone.

"Hello" she practically barks into it, and Timmy feels a twinge of guilt for whoever is on the other line, "Yeah, just a second." she turns to Timmy, "We're late for the kickoff prep. Can you drive, I have to take this."

Timmy nods, and they quickly switch seats before Tootie returns to her call. The air is still heavy between them, the tension thick enough for slicing. After a month of practice Timmy has become decent at driving, he manages to get them to the park and pull into their reserved parking space with no help from Tootie without too much difficulty. Seeing that they have arrived, she hangs up, and stops him from fleeing the car the minute he shuts off the engine, as was his original plan. "We will talk about this later," she says before she slams the door shut. Timmy locks the car behind her.

The event goes as planned, and the pair manages to put up their typical level of enthusiasm as long as they're apart. Timmy feels terrible the entire time, but he puts great effort into not letting it show, determined not to let the food drive flop. He gives a friendly wave to Bruce and his biker buddies as they man their over-sized chili pot, which is giving off a very nice aroma, and makes a note to try a bowl before the day is over. He talks logistics with the event coordinators, and Tootie chats up the donors and beneficiaries that helped the event, and future ones like it, happen. They do their separate jobs, and no one seems to notice the way the two members of Wishful Thinking purposefully avoid eye contact. After several long hours, countless publicity and 'just for fun' photos, a bounce house emergency he had to deal with, and personally eating at least twenty dollars of soup, the event reaches a dramatic conclusion. A giant check for the city-wide food bank collective is presented; they managed to raise over a million dollars, through both soup sales and corporate donations. The representative is in tears as she accepts the check that Tootie hands her, and immediately drops the poster to the floor and hugs her, raising cheerful applause from the audience.

Four hours and five mugs of donated coffee later, the food is at the shelter, the trash is in the dumpster, every volunteer is on their way home, and the park is just like it was a week before. Timmy tiredly runs over his triple-checked checklist to make sure nothing was forgotten as Tootie thanks all the charity heads who helped to organize the huge event. The sun set an hour ago over the park, and he can tell that Tootie is shivering a little in the dimly-lit parking lot. Normally he would be at her side, offering up his jacket and trying to speed things up, but he doesn't want to risk any future problems for Wishful Thinking by publicly fighting with Tootie. She finally shakes hands one last time and turns back to the van when he is currently leaning against the side door.

"Hey," she says tiredly, and Timmy gives her a half grin.

"Hey."

They both lean against the van for a minute, staring up at the dark-ish sky, the stars obscured by the bright city lights. Timmy takes a deep breath, "Can I just say that," he is cut off by Tootie.

"Let's get to the truck stop, and then we can talk about this inside," she says, rubbing her eyes and heading towards the other side of the van.

Thirty minutes later they are paying an upfront charge for their parking spot. Another fifteen and they are both at the kitchen table in the back of the van, the bag of cheese popcorn open in between them, and already halfway eaten. The box of condoms is also on the table, along with the rest of the groceries, minus the milk, but the pair's attention seems to focus on anything except the black rectangle. They sit in silence for at least ten minutes; the only sound echoing in the small kitchen is the crunching of popcorn between teeth.

"I'm sorry," Timmy says, testing the waters, but still avoiding eye contact with Tootie.

She sighs, "For what? I was the one who messed up here."

He feels bad, knowing that it's his fault that he can't grow up and that she shouldn't be the one taking the blame, "No, you didn't. You were just being yourself. I honestly should have expected you to make the first move like this."

"So you aren't mad at me for buying condoms?" she raises her head up from the lap and stares at the equally fascinating kitchen table.

"Well, no. I guess not. I'm not really mad at all," he admits, risking a glance towards the box.

"Good. Me neither," he can feel some of the tension between them disappear, and he feels the need to tell her the truth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes more before Timmy speaks up.

"I have to tell you something," he says quickly, so fast he's not even sure if he actually said it.

She seems to have understood him, and asks, "What is it?"

"I," he hesitates, "I love you."

She smiles, "I love you too."

For the first time since that afternoon in the CVS parking lot, they actually look each other in the eye, and it's like they can read each other without exchanging words. Their heads slowly drift towards each other, and Timmy tries to pull back, but it's too late. Her eyes have already fluttered shut, and he can feel his eyelids growing heavy. He can't remember how many times they've kissed over the past two years and eight months of being together, but every time it feels just like the first. As their lips meet he can feel that distinct fluttering in his stomach, and he's frantically trying not to bump their noses together too much as they move together. Tootie's hands somehow find their way to his hair, running her fingers through the brown disaster as the kiss grows even deeper, and he lightly places his hands on either side of her waist, trying not to be too forward. Her tongue slips between his lips and he unconsciously tightens his hold on her waist, his control slipping away as his mind becomes fogged by Tootie, who has somehow managed to climb out of her chair and into his lap.

In a weak attempt to slow things down, Timmy slowly moves away from her lips, instead choosing to plant light kisses along her jawline. He hits a spot at the corner of her jaw, just below her ear, and she gasps, her eyes flying open as she leans in ever so slightly towards him. His brain is in hormonal overdrive, and the way Tootie is responding to him is not helping the situation. Suddenly their lips are crashing back together and all rational thought flies out the window. Tootie's hands are making their way up underneath his shirt, and now he's the one trying not to groan and make a fool out of himself. Soon his shirt is lying somewhere on the floor, and her hands are teasing him in the most delicious way possible, smoothing over his pecks, clenching at his shoulders, and traitorously dipping down his stomach.

Not one to be outdone, he reaches for the hem of her shirt, tugging it up over her head. He gawks for a few seconds, and he can tell that Tootie is a little bit uncomfortable. Unsure of how to proceed, he decides to stick with what he knows and goes back to kissing her. This is a whole new ballgame compared to earlier, where there was once fabric there is now smooth and warm skin, begging to be touched. Timmy does his best to comply, tentatively sliding a hand up her side to cup her breast. She moans a little into her mouth, and he thinks he might die. But then again, this would be one hell of a way to go. He kisses her neck as his hand squeezes the lacey fabric, making Tootie arch against him. Excited at his progress, he focuses his lips on the section of skin where her neck meets her shoulder as he fiddles with the clasp on the back of her bra. Sensing his struggle, Tootie shifts back a little and undoes the loops, tossing the bra onto the ground.

She smiles at him before settling back down into his lap, and Timmy realizes that this is the farthest they've ever gone before. He throws a quick glance towards the table, where the box of condoms sits forebodingly. The weight of the situation dawns on him, and he pulls away from Tootie's deliciously wonderful grasp. "Tootie…"

"Mm?" she purrs as she plants a few wet kisses of her own down his neck, which is incredibly difficult for his concentration.

"I can't do this," he finally says, pulling her out of his lap and standing up out of the kitchen chair. God, they'd almost done it, in the kitchen, of all the places.

Tootie is a scary mix of confused, angry, and shirtless, "What do you mean? I am fairly confident that you can."

"No, you don't under-," he starts, and then her words catch up to him, "wait, what?"

"I was kind of sitting on, um," she glances quickly at his crotch, and Timmy turns bright red.

He coughs nervously, "No, not like, that. Because trust me, that is not the current issue here."

"Do you not have feelings for me?"

"No," he replies, "I mean, of course I have feelings for you. I _love_ you."

She seems unfazed, "Am I not pretty enough for you?"

"No!"

"Then what is it?" she crosses her arms, and Timmy has to drag his eyes back up to her face, earning an eye-roll from Tootie in the process.

He slumps back into a chair and murmurs, "I'mnogoodenouforyou."

She pulls on of the chairs closer to him and sits, "What did you say?"

Timmy rests his head in his hands, saying the phrase so quietly that he can barely even hear it himself, "I'm not good enough for you, Tootie."

"No," she says defiantly, placing a hand on his arm, "You're kind, and caring, and goodhearted, and-"

"You don't realize, do you?" he interrupts her, tears leaking from his eyes, "Tootie, you deserve so much more than this," he beckons to himself, "I'm just a twelve-year-old kid. You should have some guy who's just as smart as you are. Someone who will take care of you and love you, someone who can actually afford the wedding of your dreams, someone who will give you everything that I can't."

His words hang in the air for a few seconds, and he pretends not to notice the tears dripping down the side of his nose as he directs his gaze to the ground. There's a rustling noise followed by a sniffle and Tootie suddenly speaks up, "Did I ever tell you about my first long-term boyfriend?"

Timmy's not sure how this is relevant, but doesn't say so, and continues to gaze sadly at the kitchen floor. He hears her take a shaky breath before starting her story.

"Ten years ago I transferred into an all-girls boarding school. I did, ok, I guess, and the summer after I graduated I was hired as a camp counselor for a local nature camp. It was a great gig, teaching kids about saving the planet and saving money for college that next year. About a week into camp I met Chad, one of the other counselors. He was the greatest thing since the EPA, tall, dark, and handsome, and majoring in environmental studies. He was a rising junior in college, and I thought that he was perfect: mature, sensitive, the entire package." Timmy tries not to cringe at the way she fawns over just the memory of this guy, who is already the complete opposite of himself.

"Well, I fawned over him harder than every other girl at camp. Eventually he picked up on it, and we started dating. At first, it was perfect. Chad was one of the first guys to really pay attention to me, and I loved every minute of it. On the last night of camp, after all the kids had gone home, a couple of counselors decided to have a big bonfire. One of them had a friend who worked at the local convenience store, and he was able to get us all the beer we could want. I wasn't that interested, but Chad seemed to like the stuff, so I went for it. The rest of the night is a big, blurry black spot in my memory," Tootie takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say what Timmy knows will probably come next, "And the next morning I woke up in his cabin, not wearing much, and absolutely convinced that we were made for each other. I saved his phone number into my contacts under 'boyfriend', and for those next few months I texted him every day. Then winter break came and I decided I wanted to surprise him at his college. I skipped my Friday afternoon class and drove out to his school, running through a dramatized version of our reunion in my head."

Tootie stops, and Timmy continues to stare at the ground by his feet, waiting for her to continue, "I got there, and, and I- I saw him _with_ another girl. Like, I actually walked into the room and saw them going at it. Heartbroken, I asked around on campus and found out that this wasn't the first time that 'Cheating Chad' had taken advantage of some doe-eyed girl's naivety in order to get an easy fuck." Tootie was openly sobbing at this point, and Timmy acted on instinct, pulling her into a hug. He hadn't noticed in the moment, but before she started her story she had pulled his discarded t-shirt on, which made their embrace far less awkward. He gently reached a hand up towards her head and ran his fingers lightly through her hair as she buried her face in his chest.

This was by far the closest and most exposed they've ever been with each other. Not when they first exchanged blushing 'I love you's. Not when she accidentally walked in on him when he was leaving the shower, and he hadn't been able to look her in the eye until she had blushingly told him she hadn't seen anything 'important'. Not when they had their first argument where he had screamed at her so loud that she had run into the bathroom crying. He had sat outside the door and waited for her to come out so that he could apologize, eventually waking up with a crick in his neck after accidentally falling asleep and finding an apology note taped to a plate of his favorite cookies on the kitchen table. But never had they been this emotionally raw and vulnerable, and somehow that made it all the more special.

"Tootie, I," Timmy began, trying to put his feelings to words.

She pulled her head away from him and wiped his shirt on his chest, "No, I, I didn't tell you that in order to gain some kind of pity. Actually, I'm glad I told you, you sort-of deserve to know."

Tootie is sitting sideways in his lap, and Timmy presses a quick kiss on the top of her head, "Yeah. But it's not, bad or anything. I'm not upset that you slept with someone else."

"I didn't think you would be," she says, almost mindlessly, "you're nothing like him."

"What?"

"No, I mean, you're hot, don't get me wrong. In fact, you're really, really, sexy," Timmy blushes, suddenly very aware of the hand she's been running up and down the side of his chest and squirms a little in his seat. "But Chad was, well, he wasn't you."

"Well, yeah, Tootie, I could've told you that."

She smacks him in the arm, "Don't sass me when I'm trying to be serious. The real reason I told you about Chad is because you don't know what I deserve, and don't you dare interrupt me Timothy James Turner. I don't deserve some drop-dead gorgeous environmentalist who just wants me for my body and is going to leave me the moment things get rough. I don't deserve the efficient businessman who worships the air I breathe and doesn't think I'm capable of thinking for myself. I don't deserve the guy who is cute-as-hell and is willing to do anything for me because he loves me. The truth is that I want that guy, Timmy, because I love you, and I love you just the way you are, grown-up or not. And if you ever think to yourself that you don't deserve me then come tell me and I'll smack some sense into you."

He is speechless. Tootie is looking at him the way she always has, but he can see the emotion in her eyes that tells him that what she just said is true. He's beaming at her, his lopsided smile matched by her teary-eyed grin as they just stare and smile at each other. Unsure of what else to say, he gently grabs each side of her face and brings their lips together, and they melt into each other like they always do. They both smile into the kiss, and Tootie leans into him, pushing him back into the chair. Tootie's hands fist in his messy hair and Timmy wraps his arms tightly around her. After a few breathless minutes, Tootie pulls away from him, her cheeks a flattering shade of pink and her pupils inky and dilated. Timmy's chest is heaving as he stares up at her as she stands up and slowly slides her skirt off, leaving her dressed in just his t-shirt. His eyes widen at the breathtaking sight in front of him, and she winks before grabbing the box of condoms off the table and saunters off towards her bedroom, pausing at the door to ask him, "Are you coming?"

This time he follows her.


End file.
